Shevaun, KnightMaiden, newsieskane, and LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Well, here is another chapter. Thanks so much for reviewing - this one should start to make things a bit more clear.
Cardeia: Tristan has always seen how irresistable Lancelot is to the ladies and has seen him work his charms on Damara. Tristan really has no charms to work - he's not that guy. He sort of feels - how did I end up with this woman? What made her choose me over the Sex God? Over time he would become more trusting of the permanency of her love, but it's not something that he ever really thought to find. And he was sort of fine with that but he's become a different man, has something to lose now. He's not full-on jealous of Lancelot, just has little moments of insecurity that over time he'll forget ever having had. He's still getting used to the idea of loving someone and allowing himself to be loved. Scary stuff for a guy who was so solitary.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, save for Damara, and I'm not making any money from this.
Damara held tightly to Tristan the whole way home, trying not to think, trying not to remember.
He was never going to be yours anyway
She clenched her jaw as she remembered Merlin's words, tried to keep the tears at bay.
Nothing could be changed - Merlin had told her that.
She distracted herself by watching Bran, smiling as he reached up towards the forest canopy, towards the leaves that dangled far above his head. He pointed at something and Bors looked upwards.
"That's a squirrel," the big man said. "Good eating."
"Gwirro!" Bran shouted.
Bors chuckled. "Not quite, but that's close enough," he said.
Bran looked over at Tristan and yelled, "Da! Gwirro!"
Damara buried her face in Tristan's back as the tears began to fall. She'd been trying to get Bran to call Tristan Da – trust him to finally do it now.
Looking back over his shoulder, Tristan said, "Did you hear that?" He felt something stretch inside when he'd heard Bran's little voice. It was something that he couldn't quite define – pride maybe, or just plain happiness. He felt a brief flicker of regret for all the time he had wasted in resenting the boy. Then just as quickly that regret was gone. He had plenty of time to make up for it.
Taking a deep breath, hoping her voice would not shake, Damara said, "Yes, I heard."
He was never going to be yours anyway
Go to hell, Merlin, Damara thought.
ooooo
As soon as they got back home, Damara jumped down from the horse's back. Walking over to Bors, she murmured her gratitude to him as she reached up to take the baby.
Damara placed Bran on her hip and felt his chubby legs tighten around her waist. She smiled at the other knights – they had missed out on hours of drinking and wenching to come get her. How much nicer things would have been for everyone if she had never left in the first place.
As she headed back towards the hut she shared with Tristan, she could feel the scout watching her. She knew she had given him mixed signals – she'd told him everything was all right, but her demeanor told him the truth.
Damara had just wanted him away from Merlin. At least she'd accomplished that much.
She'd just gotten back, but she needed some time. Time to process what she had heard, to adapt, to get the grief out of her system. And then maybe she would be ready to act like everything hadn't changed overnight.
If indeed it had. What if Merlin had not been telling the truth? What if upon reflection, Damara decided she didn't believe a word out of his mouth? Tristan would never need to be told anything at all.
She could not speak to him now, for she didn't know what was best to say.
"Want to go get a bath?" she asked the boy.
"No!" he informed her.
Everything was "no" these days. It could just as well have been yes – he just liked the sound of the word "no".
The blue needed to be scrubbed from her skin. No bath house for her, though - she needed solitude and would not find that in the baths. The ring of blue she left behind would doubtless not be appreciated anyway.
She was gathering her soaps and pumice when Tristan walked into the hut. He watched her carefully as she prepared to leave.
"It's getting late," he said.
"I'll try not to be too long," she answered. "I want to get rid of this if I can." Realizing she had been avoiding his glance, she forced herself to look up at him. Damara smiled and hoped it didn't look as false as it felt. "I know you don't like it," she said.
Tristan reached out and ran his callused fingers across the length of her shoulder. "It'll wear off," he said softly.
Damara's breath caught at the look in his eyes. She longed to ask him to hold her in his arms, to tell her it was all going to be all right.
But was it?
Turning away from Tristan, she busied herself with gathering clean clothing to put on after she had bathed. She did not want him to see the tears that were beginning to gather in her eyes.
Tristan sighed, a sadly defeated sound. "We'll talk when you get back."
Damara felt a churning in her stomach. She'd held a forlorn hope that he would not press her on the issue, even as she realized how foolish that hope was. He was not a talker, and usually was content to let her come to him if she was bothered by something. He allowed her her moods, but this was different. This, he would want to discuss.
"I'll keep Bran," he said.
"You don't mind? I can take him with me," Damara said.
"How are you going to bathe and chase him around at the same time?" asked Tristan. He looked at the boy, who was dismayingly full of energy. Leaning forward, he gave her a kiss.
"Go," he said. I'll watch him."
Damara felt an almost physical pain in her chest. She loved this man with all her heart and the thought of not having him anymore – how could she live without him? There was no hiding the tears that began to flow down her cheeks.
"What is it?" Tristan asked softly.
Her hand came up and settled on his cheek. "I'm sorry about today," she told him. "I should have told you, found you before the ceremony. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
Tristan pulled her close. It wasn't so much what she had been wearing, or rather not wearing, though her attire hadn't helped. It wasn't the blue dye on her skin. It was that he hadn't been told she would be there, like that, and how obvious his ignorance had been to everyone.
But that all seemed so far away – it simply didn't matter any more.
"A little forewarning would have been nice," he admitted. "But I'm sorry for the other, when I accused you…"
"If I wanted Lancelot I would have gone to him long ago," Damara said. "I'm very fond of him, but there is nothing but friendship between us." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. "You were the only choice possible for me," she said softly.
Tristan knew that. In his heart, he did. His arms tightened around her, and Damara found herself leaning into him. How nice it would be to stay here, like this, forever.
Or for as long as they had together. At this thought, Damara pushed away from him. I'd better go," she said, extricating herself from his embrace. "It's only getting later."
Grabbing a lantern, she hurried out the door.
ooooo
Damara settled into the coolness of the spring and shivered. The baths would have definitely been warmer and more comfortable. But she enjoyed the solitude of bathing in the woods, away from everyone, the sounds of nature all around her.
She hoped that her soaps would do the trick; the only thing worse than being dark blue was being a faded sickly blue. As she scrubbed at herself, she thought back to her conversation with Merlin.
Damara hadthought to tell him that it was over, only to be told that it had just begun.
"You once said you'd pay any cost," Merlin had said. "I am now ready to tell you what that cost is."
At his words, it seemed as if the whole world was about to drop from beneath Damara. She waited, afraid to hear what he would say.
"For his life, yours in service."
She had reeled at the implications. What Merlin was asking was simply not possible. One could not serve without dedicating their entire being to it. But I cannot," she had said. "I am with Tristan. We have a life together."
Merlin had only looked at her sadly. "I'm afraid that life together must end." When he saw the stricken look on Damara's face, he went on to remind her, "You said you would pay any cost."
"But why this?" Damara had cried. "Why not…"
"Something that means less to you? Something you would not mind giving up?"
Yes, Damara had thought. Anything but this.
Merlin reminded her of his words from so long ago. "I cautioned you that the price might be higher than you wished to pay."
In the dim light of the lantern, Damara could not tell if her natural skin color was returning and she felt her frustration rise. Grabbing the pumice stone, she began to savagely scrub at her arms. She wanted the horrid color gone and if she had to take her skin as well, then so be it.
"I cannot be a priestess, cannot devote myself entirely," she'd said, snatching eagerly to this crumb of hope. "I have a son to raise."
"There are other ways to serve," Merlin had said. "And you may keep your son."
A chill had gone through Damara at his words. When she had foolishly promised Merlin whatever he wanted she had not thought about Bran. Or indeed, about anything, in her eagerness to save Tristan's life. Now she was paying for her lack of forethought.
"We'll defy you," she'd hissed at Merlin. "Tristan will not let me go, and I will not leave him."
Merlin had not gotten angry, he'd simply looked at Damara as she'd raged at him.
"The deities will have to accept something else in payment. For I will not give up Tristan!"
With his next words, Merlin had informed her that she was in no position to dictate terms.
"You may of course do as you will," he'd said in his usual calm voice. "But a favor was granted on the understanding that certain conditions would be met. If those conditions are not met, that favor will simply be withdrawn."
A cold hand had gripped Damara's heart. "What does that mean?" she had asked.
"The original destiny will reassert itself."
"Tristan will die…" Damara had said, choking on the words.
"As he was meant to that day on the battlefield." Merlin had looked at her with sympathy. "I know it hurts to give him up. But he was never going to be yours anyway."
In anger and pain, Damara hurled the pumice stone into the darkness. Her skin was raw and painful where she had scrubbed at it.
Damara did not know what to say to Tristan. She had never spoken with him about the bargain she'd made with Merlin – there did not seem to be a reason to. He would only have scoffed at the notion that Merlin had changed his destiny and at Damara for believing it.
He would scoff again were Damara to tell him that defying Merlin on this would bring about Tristan's death. But if Merlin was to be believed, Damara's choices were clear. Leave Tristan and break his heart, or stay with him and watch him die.
That is, if Merlin was to be believed.
But could she afford not to? If Tristan died it would destroy her. Especially if she could have prevented it by doing as Merlin bade.
She felt cold at the very thought of leaving him. Aside from her own feelings on the matter, what would that do to Tristan? His life would be saved only to leave him with a withered heart. He would be bitter, would not understand.
Damara did not wish that for him. She wanted him to live and be happy, but he would not be. He would hate her for making him love her and then leaving him. He would withdraw, be harder and colder than he'd been before he met her.
As for love – he'd never trust his heart to another. He hadn't given his to Damara easily and if she abandoned him, would never give it again.
A small mean part of her was briefly glad at the thought – she couldn't bear to think of him with someone else. Damara wanted to think of him happy, but alone.
Thinking of her, wanting only her.
Immediately she was ashamed of herself. Her love for Tristan was greater than that.
She'd said she'd pay any price, even after being warned that it might be too high. She cursed herself for the fool that she had been.
Damara had not really allowed herself to cry yet – she didn't count the paltry tears that had rolled down her face as truly crying. But she was alone now and could let herself go without reservation. The tears began falling faster and her body shook with the sobs that she could no longer hold back.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocked back and forth as she howled her anguish.
ooooo
Damara had stayed at the spring for as long as she could – she was as clean as she was going to get without having to grow new skin. It was time to go home. She needed Tristan, needed to feel his arms around her.
She'd hoped to come to a decision, but Damara was no closer to knowing if she believed Merlin or not. Indeed, she had only further confused herself with all the what-ifs that ran through her head. The only thing that was clear was that she needed to tell Tristan everything. Though already knowing what he would say, she needed him to share the burden with her. It was something that would affect them both and she could not carry it alone.
When Damara came in the door, Tristan looked up from his place at the table where he'd been sitting. The relief on his face warred with apprehension.
Damara dropped her belongings to the floor and leaned wearily back against the wall. Rising, Tristan went to her, pulling her against his chest. Nestlingagainst him, she felt his heart beat against her cheek. She was home. In his arms, against his chest, that was her home.
"Can it wait until morning?" she asked him softly. "I'm tired. And I need you."
Tristan did not want to put it off - he wanted to know what was being kept from him. Damara had told him everything was going to be fine. Clearly, she'd only wanted him away from Merlin when he found out the truth.
Ah well. Tristan could always seek him out again. The old man was going nowhere.
Damara looked up at him, her face weary. "I promise, I will tell you everything you want to know. Just...please, not now."
Tristan looked down at her. What burdens did she carry? What burdens had Merlin placed on her? He would find out, but it would be before morning.
And it would not be from her.
"We'll talk when you wake," he told her.
A small smile of gratitude flickered over her face. "I love you," she said.
He loved her too. Gods, did he love her. And whatever troubles were plaguing her, he would see them done away with.
"Come to bed," he said.
They made love slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Every touch, every kiss was beautiful and full of meaning. At the end of it, when Damara lie sleeping in his arms, Tristan finally understood why sometimes she cried.
His heart was full, overflowing with the love he felt for her and tinged with the fear that he was losing her.
He refused to let that happen.
Quietly he left his lover as she slept in their bed. Watching her closely, he dressed to go out, noting that even in sleep her face seemed plagued with worry.
Grabbing his sword, he left to find the man who troubled her so.